CHAPTER XI
THE CRY FROM THE FOREST
The spectacle that met the eyes of Henry and his English friends was onelikely to excite curiosity and interest. The party of ten soldiers andtwo Wyandots that had gone forth to take the youth's four comrades wasreturning, but they brought with them no prisoners, nor any trophiesfrom the slain. Instead, one of the Wyandots carried an arm in a rudesling, one soldier was missing, and four others bore wounds.
Henry laughed inwardly, and it was a laugh full of satisfaction andtriumph. The party had found the four, but his prevision had not failedhim. Shif'less Sol and the others were on watch. They had been found,because they permitted themselves to be found, and evidently they hadfought with all the advantage of ambush and skill. He felt instinctivelythat they had not suffered any serious harm.
"They do not bring your friends," said Holderness.
"No," said Henry, "nor do they bring back all of themselves. I do notwish to boast, gentlemen, but I warned you that my comrades would behard to take."
Henry saw Colonel de Peyster join the group and he saw, too, that hisface expressed much chagrin. So, not wishing to exult openly, he deemedit wise to turn aside.
"If you don't mind," he said to the young officers, "I'm willing to gointo my cell, and, if you care to tell me later about what has happened,you know I shall be glad to hear it."
"It might be advisable," said Holderness, and accordingly they lockedhim in, where he waited patiently. He heard the noise of many voicesoutside, but those to whom the voices belonged did not come within therange of his window, and he waited, alive with curiosity. He did nothear until nearly night, when Holderness came in with the soldier whobrought him his supper. Holderness seemed somewhat chagrined at thediscomfiture of de Peyster's party, and he sat a little while insilence. Henry, knowing that the young Englishman must have a certainfeeling for his own, waited until he should choose to speak.
"I'm bound to confess, old chap," said Holderness at last, "that youwere right all the way through. I didn't believe you, but you knew yourown friends. It was a facer for us and, 'pon my word, I don't see howthey did it. The Wyandots, it seems, found the trail very soon, and itled a long distance through the woods until they came to a deep creek.Our men could wade the creek by holding their rifles and muskets abovetheir heads, which they undertook to do, but a man standing in water upto his neck is not ready for a fight. At that point fire was opened uponthem, and they were compelled to beat as hasty a retreat as they could.You must admit, Mr. Ware, that they were taken at a disadvantage."
"I admit it freely enough," said Henry. "It's a dangerous thing to tryto cross a deep stream in the face of a bold enemy who knows how toshoot. And of course it was an ambush, too. That is what one has tobeware of in these woods."
"It's a truth that I'm learning every day," said Holderness, who left,wishing the prisoner, since he would not give a parole and go intoCanada, a speedy exchange with the Americans for some British captive ofimportance. Henry was not sorry to be left alone as he was trying tofathom through their characters the plan of his comrades. Paul wouldseek speedy action, Jim Hart would agree with him, but the craftyShif'less Sol, with a patience equaling that of any Indian, would risknothing, until the time was ripe, and he would be seconded by thecautious temperament of Silent Tom. Undoubtedly Shif'less Sol would havehis way. It behooved him also to show extreme patience; a quality thathe had learned long since, and he disposed himself comfortably on hispallet for his night's rest.
The second exploit of his comrades had encouraged him wonderfully. Hewas not talking folly, when he had said to more than one that he wouldescape. The five had become long since a beautiful machine that workedwith great precision and power, and it was their first principles that,when one was in trouble, all the rest should risk everything for him.
He fell asleep, but awoke some time before midnight. A bright moon wasshining in at his window and the little village within the walls wasvery quiet and peaceful. He turned over and closed his eyes in orderthat he might go to sleep again, but he was restless and sleep would notcome. Then he got up and stood by the window, looking at the part of thecourt that lay within range. Nothing stirred. There were sentinels, ofcourse, but they did not pass over the area commanded by his window. Thesilence was very deep, but presently he heard a sound very faint andvery distant. It was the weird cry of the owl that goes so far on astill night. No wilderness note could have been more characteristic, butit was repeated a certain number of times and with certain intonations,and a little shiver ran down Henry's back. He knew that cry. It was thesignal. His friends were speaking to him, while others slept, sending avoice across the woods and waters, telling him that they were there tohelp.
Then, a strange, capricious idea occurred to him. He would reply. Thesecond window on the side of the river, too narrow for a man to passthrough, was open, and putting his face to it, he sent back theanswering cry, the long, weird, wailing note. He waited a little andagain he heard a voice from the far shore of the river, the exactrejoinder to his own, and he knew that the four out there understood.The chain of communication had been established. Now he went back to hispallet, fell asleep with ease, and slept peacefully until morning.
The next day, superstition assailed the French-Canadians in the village,and many of the Indians. A second private who had a late beat near theforest had been carried off. There were signs of a struggle. No bloodhad been shed, but Private Myers had vanished as completely as hispredecessor. To many of the people who sat about the lodges or cabins itseemed uncanny, but it filled the heart of de Peyster with rage. Hevisited Timmendiquas a second time in his lodge of skins and spoke withsome heat.
"You have great warriors," he said, "men who can trail anything throughthe forest. Why is it that they cannot find this petty little band ofmarauders, only four?"
"They did find them," returned Timmendiquas gravely; "they took yoursoldiers, but your soldiers returned without them. Now they hold two ofyour men captive, but it is no fault of the Wyandots or their brethrenof the allied tribes. We wait here in peace, while the other presentsthat you have promised us come from Niagara."
De Peyster bit his lip. He had rashly promised more and greater giftsfor which he would have to send to Niagara, and Timmendiquas hadannounced calmly that the warriors would remain at Detroit until theycame. This had made another long delay and de Peyster raged internally,although he strove to hide it. Now he made the same effort atself-command, and replied pacifically:
"I keep all my promises, Timmendiquas, and yet I confess to you thatthis affair annoys me greatly. As a malignant rebel and one of the mosttroublesome of our enemies, I would subject Ware to close confinement,but two of my men are in the power of his friends, and they can takerevenge."
"De Peyster speaks wisely," said Timmendiquas. "It is well to chooseone's time when to strike."
Getting no satisfaction there, de Peyster returned to the court, wherehe saw Henry walking back and forth very placidly. The sight filled himwith rage. This prisoner had caused him too much annoyance, and he hadno business to look so contented. He began to attribute the delay in thenegotiations to Henry. He, or at least his comrades, were making himappear ignorant and foolish before the chiefs. He could not refrain froma burst of anger. Striding up to Henry he put his hand violently uponhis shoulder. The great youth was surprised but he calmly lifted thehand away and said:
"What do you wish, Colonel de Peyster?"
"I wish many things, but what I especially don't wish just now is to seeyou walking about here, apparently as free as ourselves!"
"I am in your hands," said Henry.
"You can stay in the prison," said de Peyster. "You'll be out of the wayand you'll be much safer there."
"You're in command here."
"I know it," said de Peyster grimly, "and into the prison you go."
Henry accordingly was placed in close confinement, where he remained fordays without seeing anybody except the soldier who brought him his food
and water, and from whom he could obtain no news at all. But he wouldmake no complaint to this soldier, although the imprisonment wasterribly irksome. He had been an entire week within walls. Such a thinghad never happened before in his life, and often he felt as if he werechoking. It seemed also at times that the great body which made himremarkable was shrinking. He knew that it was only the effect ofimagination, but it preyed upon him, and he understood now how one couldwither away from mere loneliness and inaction.
His mind traveled over the countless scenes of tense activity that hadbeen crowded into the last three or four years of his life. He had beenmany times in great and imminent danger, but it was always better thanlying here between four walls that seemed to come closer every day. Herecalled the deep woods, the trees that he loved, the sparkling waters,lakes, rivers and brooks; he recalled the pursuit of the big game, thedeer and the buffalo; he recalled the faces of his comrades, how theyjested with one another and fought side by side, and once more heunderstood what a terrible thing it is for a man to have his comings andgoings limited to a space a few feet square. But he resolved that hewould not complain, that he would ask no favor of de Peyster or Caldwellor any of them.
Once he saw Braxton Wyatt come to a window and gaze in. The look of therenegade was full of unholy triumph, and Henry knew that he was therefor the special purpose of exultation. He sat calm and motionless whilethe renegade stared at him. Wyatt remained at the window a full halfhour, seeking some sign of suffering, or at least an acknowledgment ofhis presence, but he obtained neither, and he went on, leaving thesilent figure full of rage.
On the tenth day Holderness came in with the soldier. Henry knew by hisface that he had something to say, but he waited for the lieutenant tospeak first. Holderness fidgeted and did not approach the real subjectfor a little while. He spoke with sympathy of Henry's imprisonment andremarked on the loss of his tan.
"It's hard to be shut up like this, I know," he said, "but it is thefortune of war. Now I suppose if I were taken by the Americans theywould do to me what Colonel de Peyster has done to you."
"I don't know," replied Henry, truthfully.
"Neither do I, but we'll suppose it, because I think it's likely. NowI'm willing to tell you, that we're going to let you out again. Some ofus rather admire your courage and the fact that you have made nocomplaint. In addition there has been another letter from those impudentfriends of yours."
"Ah!" said Henry, and now he showed great interest.
"Yes, another letter. It came yesterday. It seems that there must besome collusion--with the French-Canadians, I suppose. Woodsmen, I'msure, do not usually carry around with them paper on which to writenotes. Nor could they have known that you were locked up in here unlesssomeone told them. But to come back to the point. Those impudent rascalssay in their letter that they have heard of your close imprisonment andthat they are retaliating on Privates Doran and Myers."
Henry turned his face away a little to hide a smile. He knew that noneof his comrades would torture anybody.
"They have drawn quite a dreadful picture, 'pon honor," continuedLieutenant Holderness, "and most of us have been moved by the sufferingsof Doran and Myers. We have interceded with Colonel de Peyster, we havesought to convince him that your confinement within these four walls isuseless anyhow, and he has acceded to our request. To-morrow you gooutside and walk upon the grass, which I believe will feel good to yourfeet."
"Lieutenant Holderness, I thank you," said Henry in such a tone ofemphatic gratitude that Holderness flushed with pleasure.
"I have learned," continued Henry, "what a wonderful thing it is towalk on a little grass and to breathe air that I haven't breathedbefore."
"I understand," said Lieutenant Holderness, looking at the narrow walls,"and by Jove, I'm hoping that your people will never capture me."
"If they do, and they lock you up and I'm there, I shall do my best toget you out into the air, even as you have done it for me."
"By Jove, I think you would," said Holderness.
The hands of the two official enemies met in a hearty clasp. They wereyoung and generous. The delights of life even as a prisoner now came ina swelling tide upon Henry. He had not known before that air could be sopure and keen, such a delight and such a source of strength to thelungs. The figure that had seemed to shrink within the narrow wallssuddenly expanded and felt capable of anything. Strength flowed back inrenewed volume into every muscle. Before him beyond the walls curved thedark green world, vital, intense, full of everything that he loved. Itwas there that he meant to go, and his confidence that he would escaperose higher than ever.
A swart figure passed him and a low voice said in his ear: "Watch theriver! Always watch the river!"
It was Lajeunais who had spoken, and already he was twenty feet away,taking no notice of either Henry or Holderness, hurrying upon someerrand, connected with his business of trapping and trading. But Henryknew that his words were full of meaning. Doubtless he had communicatedin some manner with the four, and they were using him as a messenger. Itlooked probable. Lajeunais, like many of his race, had no love for theconquerors. He had given the word to watch the river, and Henry meant todo so as well as he could.
He waited some time in order to arouse no suspicion, and then hesuggested to Holderness that they walk again upon the platform of thepalisade. The lieutenant consented willingly enough, and presently theystood there, looking far up and down the river and across at the forestsof Canada. There were canoes upon the stream, most of them small,containing a single occupant, but all of these occupants were Indians.Some of the savages had come from the shores of the Northern waters.Chippewas or Blackfeet, who were armed with bows and arrows and whoseblankets were of skins. But they had heard of Detroit, and they broughtfurs. They would go back with bright blankets and rifles or muskets.Henry watched them with interest. He was trying to read somesignificance for him into this river and its passengers. But if the textwas there it was unintelligible. He saw only the great shining current,breaking now and then into crumbling little waves under the gentle wind,and the Indian canoes, with their silent occupants reflected vividlyupon its surface, like pictures in a burnished mirror. Again he strainedwith eye and mind. He examined every canoe. He forced his brain toconstruct ingenious theories that might mean something, but all came tonaught.
"Strange people," said Holderness, who thought that Henry was watchingthe Indians with a curiosity like his own, merely that of one who seesan alien race.
"Yes, they're strange," replied Henry. "We must always consider thedifference. In some things like the knowledge of nature and thewilderness, they are an old, old race far advanced. In most others theyare but little children. Once I was a captive among them for a longtime."
"Tell me about it," said Holderness eagerly.
Henry was willing for a double reason. He had no objection to tellingabout his captivity, and he wished to keep Holderness there on thepalisade, where he could watch the river. While his eyes watched histongue told a good tale. He had the power of description, because hefelt intensely what he was saying. He told of the great forests andrivers of the West, of the vast plains beyond, of the huge buffalo herdsthat were a day in passing, and of the terrible storms that sometimescame thundering out of the endless depths of the plains. Holdernesslistened without interruption, and at the end he drew a long breath.
"Ah! that was to have lived!" he said. "One could never forget such alife, such adventures, but it would take a frame of steel to stand it!"
"I suppose one must be born to it," said Henry. "I've known no life butthat of the wilderness, but my friend Paul, who has read books, oftentells me of the world of cities beyond."
"Wouldn't you like to go there?" asked Holderness.
"To see it, yes, perhaps," replied Henry thoughtfully, "but not to staylong. I've nothing against people. I've some of the best friends that aman ever had, and we have great men in Kentucky, too, Boone, Kenton,Harrod, Logan, and the others, but think what a glorious thing it
is toroam hundreds of miles just as you please, to enter regions that you'venever seen before, to find new rivers, and new lakes, and to feel thatwith your rifle you can always defend yourself--that suits me. I supposethe time will come when such a life can't be lived, but it can be livednow and I'm happy that this is my time."
Holderness was quiet. He still felt the spell of the wilderness thatHenry had cast over him, but, after a moment or two, it began to pass.His nature was wholly different. In his veins flowed the blood ofgenerations that had lived in the soft and protected English lands, andthe vast forests and the silence, brave man though he was, inspired himwith awe.
Henry, meanwhile, still watched the passing canoes. The last of them wasnow far down the river, and he and Holderness looked at it, while itbecame a dot on the water, and then, like the others, sank from sight.Then he and his English friend walked out from the palisade upon theunfinished pier, and watched the twilight come over the great forest.This setting of the sun and the slow red light falling over the branchesof the trees always appealed to Henry, but it impressed Holderness, notyet used to it, with the sense of mystery and awe.
"I think," said he, "that it is the silence which affects me most. WhenI stand here and look upon that unbroken forest I seem face to face witha primeval world into which man has not yet come. One in fancy almostcould see the mammoth or great sabre tooth tiger drinking at the faredge of the river."
"You can see a deer drinking," said Henry, pointing with a longforefinger. Holderness was less keen-eyed, but he was able at length tomake out the figure of the animal. The two watched, but soon thedeepening twilight hid the graceful form, and then darkness fell overthe stream which now flowed in a slow gray current. Behind them theyheard the usual noises in the fort, but nothing came from the greatforest in front of them.
"Still the same silence," said Holderness. "It grows more uncanny."
The last words had scarcely left his lips when out of that forest came alow and long wailing cry, inexpressibly sad, and yet with a decisivetouch of ferocity. It sounded as if the first life, lonely and fierce,had just entered this primitive world. Holderness shivered, withoutknowing just why.
"It is the cry of a wolf," said Henry, "perhaps that of some outcastfrom the pack. He is probably both hungry and lonesome, and he istelling the world about it. Hark to him again!"
Henry was leaning forward, listening, and young Holderness did notnotice his intense eagerness. The cry was repeated, and the wolf gave itinflections like a scale in music.
"It is almost musical," said Holderness. "That wolf must be singing akind of song."
"He is," said Henry, "and, as you notice, it is almost a human sound. Itis one of the easiest of the animal cries to imitate. It did not take melong to learn to do it."
"Can you really repeat that cry?" asked Holderness with incredulity.
Henry laughed lightly.
"I can repeat it so clearly that you cannot tell the difference," hesaid. "All the money I have is one silver shilling and I'll wager itwith you that I succeed, you yourself to be the judge."
"Done," said Holderness, "and I must say that you show a spirit ofconfidence when you let me, one of the wagerers, decide."
Henry crouched a little on the timbers, almost in the manner of a wolf,and then there came forth not three feet from Holderness a long whiningcry so fierce and sibilant that, despite his natural bravery, aconvulsive shudder swept over the young lieutenant. The cry, althoughthe whining note was never lost, rose and swelled until it swept overthe river and penetrated into the great Canadian forest. Then it diedslowly, but that ferocious under note remained in it to the last.
"By Jove!" was all that Holderness could say, but, in an instant, thecry rose again beside him, and now it had many modulations andinflections. It expressed hunger, anger and loneliness. It was an almosthuman cry, and, for a moment, Holderness felt an awe of the strangeyouth beside him. When the last variation of the cry was gone and theecho had died away, the lieutenant gravely took a shining shilling fromhis pocket and handed it to Henry.
"You win with ease," he said. "Listen, you do it so well that the realwolf himself is fooled."
An answering cry came from the wolf in the Canadian woods, and then thedeep silence fell again over forest and river.
"Yes, I fooled him," said Henry carelessly, as he put the shilling inhis pocket. "I told you it was one of the easiest of the animal cries toimitate."
But he was compelled to turn his face away again in order thatHolderness might not see his shining eyes. They were there, the faithfulfour. Doubtless they had signaled many times before, but they had nevergiven up hope, they had persisted until the answering cry came.
"Shall we go in?" he said to Holderness.
"I'm willing," replied the lieutenant. "You mustn't think any the lessof me, will you, if I confess that I am still a little bit afraid of thewilderness at night? I've never been used to it, and to-night inparticular that wolf's howl makes it all the more uncanny to me."
The night had come on, uncommonly chill for the period of the year, andHenry also was willing to go. But when he returned to his little room itseemed littler than ever. This was not a fit place to be a home for ahuman being. The air lay heavy on his lungs, and he felt that he nolonger had the patience to wait. The signal of his comrades had setevery pulse in his veins to leaping.
But he forced himself to sit down calmly and think it over. Lajeunaishad told him to watch the river; he had watched and from that point thefirst sign had come. Then Lajeunais beyond a doubt meant him well, andhe must watch there whenever he could, because, at any time, a secondsign might come.
The next day and several days thereafter he was held in prison by orderof Colonel de Peyster. The commander seemed to be in a vacillatingmood. Now he was despondent, and then he had spells of courage andenergy. Henry heard through Holderness that the negotiations withTimmendiquas were not yet concluded, but that they were growing morefavorable. A fresh supply of presents, numerous and costly, had arrivedfrom Niagara. The Shawnees and Miamis were eager to go at once againstKentucky. Only the Wyandots still demurred, demanding oaths from theKing's commanders at Montreal and Quebec that all the tribes should beaided in case of a return attack by the Kentuckians.
"But I think that in a week or so--two weeks at thefurthest--Timmendiquas will be on the march," said Holderness. "A few ofour soldiers will go with them and the whole party will be nominallyunder the command of Colonel William Caldwell, but Timmendiquas, ofcourse, will be the real leader."
"Are you going with them?" asked Henry.
"No, I remain here."
"I am very glad of that."
"Why?"
"Because you do not really know what an Indian raid is."
Henry's tone was so significant that Holderness flushed deeply, but heremained silent. In a little while he left, and Henry was again a preyto most dismal thoughts. Bird, with his army and his cannon, doubtlesshad reached Kentucky by this time and was doing destruction.Timmendiquas would surely start very soon--he believed the words ofHolderness--and perhaps not a single settlement would escape him. It wasa most terrible fate to be laid by the heels at such a time. Before, hehad always had the power to struggle.
The Border Watch: A Story of the Great Chief's Last Stand Page 13
